


What Might Have Been

by NoisyNoiverns



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-03 00:12:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2831069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoisyNoiverns/pseuds/NoisyNoiverns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another take on how Thie'Haasn narrowly avoids death at the hands of slavers, this time with less turians.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We Didn't Mean to Kill Anybody... Just Kidding, We Totally Did

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xMidnightSun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xMidnightSun/gifts).



Irajii paused outside her uncle’s office, pulling down the goggles that as far as anybody knew weren’t there so the retinal scanner would register her properly. She waited for the doors to open, then marched in, replacing her goggles neatly so they once again blended in with her face and neatly folding her arms behind her back. “ _Kaiatu_ Irajii, reporting as requested, _makaiara_.”

Her uncle was facing the window. He twitched his head just enough so the very corner of one eye peered at her, then he turned around fully and nodded to her. “Relax, _tam-tei_. I have a job for you.”

Irajii nodded, though she relaxed only minimally. “What do you need me to do?”

He motioned for her to come around the desk, then started tapping away at his terminal as she did so. “I assume you know about the team in the Nostea system we’ve been monitoring?”

She nodded, moving to look around him at his terminal screen. “The government gave them special permission to do what they want. What about them?”

“We’ve got something.” Her uncle smiled viciously and pulled up what looked like a comm record. “They were recently in contact with a company of batarian slavers.”

Irajii flicked her head. “And why does this concern us?”

“Because of what they purchased, _mohipeke_. Or, are planning to purchase. Due to the nature of the transaction, they won’t be paying until the… merchandise has been handed over. That’ll be our opening.” He moved to give her a better view of the screen, and she leaned in.

She scanned the document he’d pulled up, eyes widening with each line. “What in…”

Her uncle nodded sharply. “Intel suggests the team wishes to subject him to immoral and unethical experiments in the name of science. Obviously, should word of it get out, the Union will be in trouble, and possibly jeopardize our own organization. We’re not going to let that happen, are we, _tam-tei_?”

Irajii stood back up and shook her head firmly. “Not a chance, _matu-tei_.”

“Good. Get your gear, and mine. We’ll be dealing with this matter personally.”

-

Irajii leaned against the wall, clenching and unclenching a hand to keep herself from fiddling with the dagger currently strapped to her forearm under her sleeve. She couldn’t let it be seen. Deadly assassins carried daggers. Research assistants did not.

Instead, she rubbed absently at the piece of slowly-warming metal on her neck, with wires delicately laced into her skin. She’d worn voice modifiers before, of course- any respectable _kaiatu_ would, if there were ever more than one at a time. It simply wasn’t practical to be a massive criminal organization’s heir and go around using your real voice. But this one was specially programmed with the voice of one of the team members they were replacing, so her usual modifier had been removed and replaced with this one. It always took a while to adjust to new tech, even replacement ones.

Her eyes flicked to the other side of the room as another of her uncles, Waedrok, pulled up his omni-tool. “Scanners indicate new life-forms have entered this floor. One’s weak. Probably the men we’re waiting for.”

Uncle Maekso, sitting on the one bed in the not-even-second-rate motel room the science team had rented for the exchange with his fingers steepled, nodded. “Good. Be ready, both of you. There’s no telling what they’ve done to this quarian.”

Waedrok nodded and put away his omni-tool just as a knock came at the door. One eye membrane twitched, and he glanced at Maekso, waiting for his nod before pulling the device back up and unlocking the door.

Maekso stood and dusted off his hands as five batarians came in, herding one small, ragged-looking quarian. “Seno Kraf’daral?” he asked, addressing the batarian at the head of the group. “Sotar Banok. These are my associates, Aesaf Tuzik and Mekann Tadril.”

Maekso’s disguise was a work of art, if you asked Irajii. Vaehirn Maekso was a visible leader in the STG- he could hardly go about picking up slaves from batarians. So once the real Sotar Banok had been killed, Maekso had quickly and quietly gotten his skin painted to match his exactly and his voice modifier programmed with the scientist’s voice. Once the exchange was over, he’d destroy all traces of both, and allow the body and its companions on their reclusive research base to be found. It was a neat little trick. Irajii and Waedrok hadn’t had to put nearly so much effort into their disguises, just swap out modifiers and attach a prosthetic horn so Irajii’s mismatched ones wouldn’t give anything away.

Waedrok took two large steps forward, holding his head up haughtily as he stalked past the batarians to inspect the quarian. Irajii bit back a laugh. Waedrok didn’t have a snooty bone in his body. A lot of annoyed ones, but no snooty.

She watched silently as Waedrok looked the quarian over while Maekso and the lead batarian discussed the “merchandise,” the alien’s suit lit up faintly where Waedrok’s eyeshine hit it. She had to resist the urge to activate an app on her goggles that would target the quarian’s vital signs- normally, she used it to more effectively kill a target, but it also came in handy for determining life quality. Waedrok was a licensed medical doctor; he could handle this himself.

Waedrok made a vaguely disapproving noise under his breath and stood, starting to lead the quarian out of the cluster of batarians. “He’s in bad shape, but he should be fine,” he reported as he passed Maekso.

“Good,” he responded with a nod. “We can patch him up on the way back.”

The lead batarian grunted, and Irajii discreetly moved so the fingers of one hand brushed against the handle of her dagger. “Then if you’re good, we’ll take our money and be on our way.”

“Of course, of course,” Maekso said with a twitch of a membrane. “Tuzik?”

She stood to attention, gaze focused entirely on her uncle.

“Pay them.”

The membrane around his right eye tightened. _Now_.

She jumped.

The dagger slid out of its sheath and pierced the nearest batarian’s throat before she’d blinked. Muscle memory so ingrained it was all but etched into every cell took over, and she slid the dagger out of the batarian and spun to leap at the next one in one fluid motion. She hit square in the chest, and the batarian was knocked to the ground with a heavy thud, taken by surprise. She put a ragged gash along his throat, just to be on the safe side, then bounced to her feet.

Two shots rang out, and two more batarians dropped to the floor. The last one glanced away from Irajii, startled, and she took the chance to drive the dagger into his throat.

She stepped back as the body fell, glancing back towards her uncle as he holstered his pistol and stepped forward to inspect the bodies. “Hm. Quick and clean, as usual. Good work, Irajii.”

She nodded sharply, then said, “There’ll be more where they came from. What do we do about the rest of the slavers?”

Maekso waved a hand and started dragging the bodies into the corner. “It’s being taken care of. Our people are raiding the ship as we speak.”

“And the prisoners?”

“Will be given any and all necessary medical treatment, then returned to their families.”

“If no family can be located?”

“Turned over to their respective governments. Relax, _mohipeke_. Our people have been taking care of slavers since long before your time. The slavers will be dealt with and the prisoners returned to where they belong. We know what we’re doing.”

Irajii narrowed her eyes, but nodded. Then she glanced to the quarian, who’d barely reacted to the commotion, if at all. “What about him?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Maekso folded his arms, placing one hand on his chin. “Now, that _is_ a predicament,” he mused. “We’ll take him to get proper medical treatment, of course. Our facilities on Mannovai should be more than sufficient. Waedrok, what do you think?”

Waedrok glanced up, then shook his head. “Doesn’t look good, I’m afraid. His injuries are extensive, and I’m barely getting a pulse.”

“You told the batarians he looked fine,” Irajii said sharply, scowling.

“Of course,” Waedrok snorted. “Raising a fuss about his health would have endangered the plan. Give me a few minutes, and I should be able to jury-rig a way to get him back to the ship safely. But we’ll have to be very careful. I’ll oversee his treatment personally. If the roster and preliminary scans are correct and this quarian is a biotic, we can’t lose him. Irajii, you’re the quickest. Go on ahead back to the ship and tell the medical team to prepare a clean room for our new guest.”

Irajii’s frown deepened, but she nodded. “Yes, _makaianau_.”

-

Irajii sat perched in an alcove overlooking the medbay, looking at her hands as she picked at the scabs where blisters had burst. She should put medi-gel on it, she knew. But she didn’t want to. It was something to focus on.

She wanted to see the quarian. She’d only ever seen one or two before, and from a distance. They hadn’t been her targets, so she’d stayed back in the shadows. Now there was a quarian she could get up close to and peer at, and preliminary data was suggesting the Fleet wouldn’t mind if they kept him, though they’d consult him first of course, not doing so would be rude and unethical, and they were neither, though it would be ages until he was well enough to even consider going back to the Fleet, and anyway her aunt Jozen said he was on something called a “Pilgrimage” and wouldn’t be able to return yet anyway, whatever that was about, but Waedrok wouldn’t let anyone but the team assigned to the quarian anywhere _near_ him, even though it had been a whole two Sur’Kesh weeks since the rescue, and it was _frustrating_.

Sometimes she was glad her brain didn’t need to pause for breath during long thoughts.

The doors below her opened, and she leaned out of her alcove to see Waedrok walking out, starting to remove his mask.

She thought for a moment, then bounced to her feet and leapt down, managing to land with only a little stumble before she caught up to her uncle. “How is he?”

“Stable. He’s coherent, at least. The Fleet sent him a new suit. He got it on right, according to him. Motor control optimal, though he’ll be on crutches for a while. We should have him walking about by tomorrow. Hands?”

He stopped and turned to face her, and she held up her torn and bleeding hands obediently. He raised one brow, then sighed and pulled a pouch of medi-gel out of his pocket. “You’ve been picking at them again, haven’t you?”

“No.”

“Then what, pray tell, were you doing, _tam-tei_?”

Irajii blinked rapidly. “I was training in close-quarters with a new blade, and the hilt wasn’t wrapped properly.”

“Hm.” Irajii winced as the cool sting of medi-gel seeped into her hands. “Convincing. Much better, _mohipeke_. I would have believed you, if not for one detail you forgot.”

Irajii frowned. “What did I miss?”

Waedrok turned her hands over in his, making sure he’d gotten everything, then reached up and delicately picked something off her taller horn, holding it so she could see it. “You forgot I know you always rub them against your horns.”

She scowled, and he shrugged, releasing her and turning to continue walking down the medbay. “If I hadn’t known you since you were a tadpole, Irajii, that would have worked. Very nice. You’ve improved since you last tried to lie to me.”

“It’s been several years since I tried, _matu-tei_.”

“I know. Take the compliment, _itiika._ ” One eye membrane twitched good-naturedly. “Now then, I’m sure you weren’t lurking over the door just to talk to me. What is it you want?”

Irajii paused, then shook herself and took long strides to catch up with her uncle. “I want to speak to the quarian. You said he’s coherent.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s ready for visitors.”

She huffed. “ _Matu-tei_ , I’m twelve years old and _kaiatu_. I’ll be _makaiara_ in less than five years. I won’t disturb him.”

“I’m thirty-two and a licensed medical doctor. He needs peace and quiet. And no buzzing insects to talk to him.” Waedrok shook his head and tapped her forehead. “Leave the quarian be, _tam-tei_.”

Irajii frowned but stopped walking, folding her arms and watching as Waedrok walked briskly away.

-

Thie looked at the datapad the salarians had given him. Apparently high salarian literature, but he couldn’t see the appeal. He couldn’t wait until they let him walk.

He glanced up as the doors opened, expecting the grumpy blue salarian who’d been there when he woken up… five days ago? Four? It was hard to keep track. But to his surprise, a brown one with one horn noticeably smaller than the other walked in, eyes darting from side to side, followed by a bored-looking red one. “You know,” the red one was saying, “if Waedrok busts your ass over this, I’m not covering for you.”

“He won’t, Selban. Relax.”

“You’re the one doing shifty-eyes, not me.”

“And who’s the one who hacked the lock?”

“Hey, I was following orders.”

Thie looked between the two bickering salarians, then coughed.

The two snapped around to look at him, and the brown one smiled. “Good, you’re awake. Hate to have come in here for nothing.”

Thie blinked. “Um… Alright, but who are you?”

The brown one’s smile dropped away, and her eyes narrowed. “If I told you,” she said stonily, I’d have to kill you.”

Thie’s eyes widened, and she laughed. “Nah, just messin’ with you.” She held out a gloved hand. “Vaehirn Irajii.” She jerked her head over her shoulder and added, “This is my sister, Selban.”

“ _Sheoquol_ Selban,” the red grumbled, pacing forward to stand next to her sister. “The smart one.”

Thie looked warily between them. Irajii looked vaguely familiar, though he couldn’t quite place it. Selban was completely unfamiliar except for her apparent attitude, which was more than a little reminiscent of the doctor from earlier. What was his name? Waedrok or something. All the other medical staff just called him “doctor.” He cautiously took Irajii’s hand and shook it. “Thie’Haasn nar Olyna. Who the hell are you people? Last I remember is a bunch of batarians.”

“Here we go,” Selban muttered, as Irajii’s face lit up with what to Thie looked like a very malicious gleam.

Just as Irajii was opening her mouth to start talking, the door slid open, and the doctor came in, one eye twitching erratically. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you came in here anyway.”

Irajii blinked, then gave a manic grin. “I never agreed to stay out.”

The doctor groaned and pressed a hand against his face. “My sister warned me you were too clever for your own good, but did I listen? No. Get out of here and leave my patient be, _kanopa_. You too, Selban.”

“ _Matu-tei_ Maekso-”

“- is not a doctor. And the _kaiatu_ does not hide behind the _makaiara._ Get lost.”

Irajii puffed up, and for a moment Thie thought she was going to punch the doctor. But then she relaxed and shuffled out of the room, though not before casting a glare the doctor’s way. After a moment, Selban followed at a fast trot.

The doctor watched them go, then turned back to Thie, shaking his head and pulling up his omni-tool. “Her impulse control is improving, but she still has a ways to go. What did you think of the datapad I left you?”

-

Thie didn’t think he’d ever been happier to get out of bed. Staying in a clean room all day was damn boring. Of course, he wasn’t terribly thrilled about the casts on his arm and leg and being confined to crutches, but he’d take what he could get. He had to hand it to the salarians- they were stuck out in space, ancestors knew where, and they’d still managed to patch him up, and even find him a new suit.

He was pretty sure he didn’t _want_ to know how they’d pulled it off, given their species’ reputation, but he wasn’t about to make a fuss.

Hobbling around the ship, he was more than a little relieved to find the salarians almost exclusively ignored him. They were too busy to bother with a quarian fighting with crutches. The main exception was the brown salarian with mismatched horns from the other day, and the three others who always seemed to be within shouting distance of her, including the sister who’d shown up with her that first time. While she didn’t seem to be following him or anything, whenever they were in the same room, she’d somehow find a way to come over for a closer look at him. He assumed it was simple curiosity- salarians were known for that, after all, and she certainly seemed young, and wasn’t it rare for salarian females to leave their homeworlds anyway?- but he still couldn’t shake the sense that she was waiting for _something_.

He didn’t get his answer as to just what her interest was until maybe a week after he was allowed to start leaving the medbay.

For a ship with just a few more people than the _Olyna_ , it was _massive_. Or, so it seemed to him, anyway. He doubted he’d ever see all of it, at least while he was still stuck using crutches to get around. But getting lost was at least something to do, so he’d taken to hitting a random button on the elevator and wandering around whatever floor it took him to.

Today’s button-pressing adventure took him to an empty hallway lined with double doors and windows.

Correction: _mostly_ empty.

One of the salarians always near Irajii, a purple one, was standing in front of one of the big windows, arms folded neatly behind his back and staring inside with what Thie assumed was an impassive expression. Salarian faces only _looked_ easy to read, he’d learned.

He started making his way down the hall, and the salarian at the window glanced at him briefly before turning back to whatever was on the other side of the glass. Curious in spite of himself, Thie changed direction slightly so he was walking towards the window, wanting to see what was apparently so fascinating.

He’d just reached the edge of the window when the salarian spoke. “Thie’Haasn. I was wondering when I’d get to meet you face-to-face.”

Thie blinked and paused a moment, then continued getting closer to the salarian. “What?”

The salarian still didn’t turn away from the window. “Sorrot Raemnor. You know my sister Irajii.” One corner of his mouth twitched. “I’m older by seven minutes.”

Thie blinked. “You’re twins?”

“Technically, 94-tuplets. Salarians hatch from eggs, remember? Clutches are dozens strong. Irajii and I were of the same clutch, though we have different fathers. It’s complicated. You’re better off not asking, _ever_ , trust me.” He shuddered.

Thie frowned slightly, then shook his head and turned to see what Raemnor was watching.

On the other side of the glass was some sort of obstacle course, with climbing walls, pits, barbed wire, the works. A figure cloaked all in black was scaling the climbing wall, moving slowly and testing each hold before putting their weight on it. “I thought the point of an obstacle course was to get through as fast as you could.”

“Usually, yes.” In the corner of Thie’s eye, Raemnor shrugged. “But we’re testing some new tech. Irajii’s the one who’d get the most use out of it, so she gets to test. It’s a gripping technology based off the pads of our own hands and feet, but able to be turned on and off with a simple kinetic command, rather than a full arm motion, and put on a fabric some of our infiltration experts wrap around their hands and feet. Makes less noise than boots. If it works, we’ll test it with other species. Not turians, their talons function well enough without sticky pads. But asari and humans would have a use for it, and feasibly drell and batarians, too.”

Thie bristled. “You’d market to batarians?”

The eye closest to Thie swiveled to look at him, then back to the window. “Right, the slavers…” He jerked his head back slightly. “If it gets to them, it gets to them. Science doesn’t care about your prejudices. Progress waits for no one.”

Thie frowned and turned to say something, but Raemnor’s eye membrane had flicked up to block him from sight. His frown deepened. That was perfectly clear. He opened his mouth to say something, but Raemnor pulled up his omni-tool and tapped at some keys, then spoke into it. “Jii, come on down and let’s take a look at the grips.”

Thie turned to look in again just as the figure in black pushed off from the wall, flipped, and sailed down to land in a small heap, then stood up smoothly and headed for the door as she brushed herself off.

Thie awkwardly turned himself so he could see Irajii walk through the door. She pulled a swath of fabric down from where it was covering the lower half of her face, then gingerly removed the hood covering everything above her eyes as she walked towards them. “Thie’Haasn,” she greeted with a nod to him. “Good to see you again. How was it looking from out here, Raemnor?”

“Good,” Raemnor said, putting his omni-tool away. “No falters that I could see. Did you notice any?”

“No.” Irajii held out her hands, which Thie could now see were wrapped snugly in black fabric rather than simple gloves, palms up so Raemnor could see.

As Raemnor inspected the wrappings, Thie blinked and looked over Irajii again. She was swathed head to toe in black, with a pistol holstered at one hip, some sort of blade at the other, and a bag slung over her shoulder. “I don’t get it,” he said, “If you’re only testing something, why dress like that?”

Irajii looked at him and shrugged. “If I’m going to use it, I want to be sure it’ll support the added weight of everything I carry and wear out on missions.”

“Oh.” Wait. “What do you _do?_ ”

Another shrug. “Kill people.”

Raemnor rolled his eyes. “She’s a professional assassin.”

“Oh, sure, be all technical about it.”

Thie’s eyes widened. “And you’re _how_ old?”

“Twelve.” Raemnor and Irajii answered at the same time. Raemnor added, “If we were quarians, we’d be about… early twenties, given the differences in maturity rates.”

“So… you’re young adult assassins.”

“She is. I’m in the STG. Reserves, of course, so I have the time to do things like this.”

Thie stared at them for a moment, then just said, “What the _fuck?_ ”

Irajii and Raemnor glanced at each other, then Raemnor pulled up his omni-tool again and hit a key. “Moks?”

There was a slight pause, then a voice floated out of the speaker. “What do you need?”

“I’m with Irajii and the quarian, by the obstacle course. I’ll leave this channel open. Warn us if anyone’s coming, got it?”

“Right. I’m putting you on mute, just in case.”

“Thanks.” His omni-tool went away, and Raemnor looked at Irajii. “Do you want to start?”

She shrugged. “Might as well. I’m higher-ranked than you.”

Thie glanced between them. “What? What am I missing here?”

Irajii sighed and crossed her arms. “Long story short, you’re on a ship belonging to the _taumakai_.”

He blinked. “The what?”

“ _Taumakai_. We’re an ancient organization dating back to before we even had atmospheric flight. Most consider us the STG’s much less legal cousin.”

Oh, like that was so reassuring. “And why am _I_ here?”

“Simple. You were in trouble, we got wind of it, and we intercepted before you could exchange the claws for the jaws.”

He blinked. “And if I knew what that meant, that would mean… what, to me?”

Raemnor sighed. “She means you would’ve been exchanging one bad situation for another. According to our intel- which is nearly infallible, mind you- you were going to be sold to a team that wanted to perform all sorts of nasty experiments on you in the name of science. So we stepped in.”

Irajii nodded. “My uncles and I- you’ve met Waedrok, he was the doctor in charge of your case- tracked down the team, killed them, and assumed their identities long enough to intercept the slavers, take custody of you, and kill _them_. Went off without a hitch. We’re on our way back to our facilities at Mannovai, to make sure your health is up to snuff. Waedrok can only do so much on a ship, you know. We’ll have medical supplies more suitable for quarians there. Unless you’d prefer to just go back to the Fleet now.”

Thie shook his head automatically. “I don’t have a Pilgrimage gift. I can’t go back yet.” Then a thought struck him. “Wait, but I thought salarian females didn’t leave their homeworlds. And you’re an assassin. How does that even happen?”

Irajii grinned at that. “That’s the best part. There’s a division of the taumakai that helps our females leave their homeworlds and salarian space to see the galaxy, if they want to. The trick is a very convincing disguise, which we usually manage with a voice modifier and some falsified records saying they’re men. And if they decide they’d like to stay a man, we have people who can arrange that, too. My advantage is that my day job actually is politics, so I have a free pass to travel, provided we can arrange a reasonable excuse. Nobody’s going to suspect _me_ , of all people. It’s the perfect cover.”

“Oh.” Well, that _kind of_ made sense. A little. Slightly. If he thought about it. Then again, not making sense seemed to be a trademark of the entire salarian species.

Raemnor glanced down at his wrist then, where his omni-tool had starting blinking insistently. “That’ll be Moks. We can continue this conversation later. Like, say, on Mannovai. We’ll be arriving any day now.”

Irajii nodded sharply and put her hood back up. “Right, then I’ll go back in. We should make sure these don’t wear out fast. Talk to you sooner or later, Haasn.”

-

Thie didn’t know why it surprised him that Mannovai was on a jungle planet. Or that the taumakai base wasn’t in the city itself, but so far away Mannovai was barely a speck on the horizon, and practically buried among the trees. Thankfully, the interior of the base had air-conditioning, so he wasn’t dying inside his suit from all the heat and humidity.

He didn’t see Irajii or her siblings anywhere after they’d docked. Instead, he got escorted to the medical wing, spent several hours being thoroughly examined, tested, and re-wrapped in bandages, then finally left alone in a private room with the lights turned off so he could sleep.

He tried to sleep. He really did. But maybe ten minutes after the lights turned off, he heard a very faint scratching noise.

He tried to ignore it. Salarians only needed a couple hours of sleep at most. Who knew what they got up to while sane people were sleeping? It stopped maybe a minute in, so no real cause for concern.

Or so he thought, until the mattress under him sank down near his feet.

He sat straight up, which he realized too late was a terrible plan to begin with, as his broken limbs reminded him with a jolt of pain. Once he’d hastily rearranged himself so his broken bones weren’t at such quite awkward angles, he glanced back up, looking towards his feet.

There was nothing there.

But only for a second.

Twin ovals of soft, pale light, surrounded by red, blinked into existence near his feet. After a brief moment of heart attack, Thie realized they were eyes.

An omni-tool blazed to life, revealing the eyes belonged to none other than Irajii. Thie was pretty sure he should stop being surprised, but he was equally sure he wasn’t going to. “Keelah, don’t _do_ that!”

“Sorry,” Irajii said in that “I’m not sorry at all” tone of voice Thie had heard a lot growing up. “Had to get in here without notice.”

“ _Why?_ ”

Irajii shrugged. “Officially, I’m not supposed to tell you what I’m going to tell you. Unofficially, the _makaiara_ already knows and is waiting to see how I proceed.”

Thie blinked, then asked, “Again, _why?_ ”

“In a second.” She tapped a button on her omni-tool and spoke softly into it. “Coast is clear. Come on.”

Thie heard scratching off to his left, and turned to look, but there was nothing. “Just wait,” Irajii murmured.

Right before four more sets of eyes popped up around her.

Thie jumped again, and, when he yelped from disturbing his bad leg, was shushed by five voices simultaneously. “What is it, Scare the Quarian Day?” he hissed.

“No,” mused a different voice he thought might be Raemnor. “That’s _next_ week.”

“Oh, thanks, that makes me feel _so_ much better,” he grumbled.

“Here,” another, significantly less familiar voice said. “This might help.”

An omni-tool fired up, bathing the area in an orange glow. It wasn’t Irajii’s, though- it was instead on the arm of a gray salarian Thie couldn’t remember seeing on the ship. The salarian nodded to him. “Thie’Haasn, I presume. Vaehirn Adreon. Just got in from Omega. My uncle filled me in.”

A green one Thie only dimly recognized blinked at Adreon. “ _When?_ ”

“After I got off the shuttle.”

“And when was that?”

“Five minutes ago.”

Thie blinked. Then started making a series of unintelligible noises that only vaguely sounded like attempts at talking _. Then_ managed to get out, “ _What the fuck?”_

“Quiet, you idiots,” Irajii hissed. She rolled her eyes, then looked at Thie. “One question at a time.”

Thie had a million questions, most of which were variants of “What the fuck is going on?” So, naturally, the first one he blurted out was, “Salarian eyes glow in the dark?” Nice one, brain.

There was a chorus of snorts, then the red one- Selban, that was her name- explained, “We evolved in the jungle understory. Not a whole lot of light makes it through the canopy, so our ancestors developed highly-specialized cells in their eyes that collect and store light, which in turn made their eyes glow. Nobody told evolution we didn’t have such limited light anymore, so as the light we were exposed to every waking minute increased, so did our eyeshine.”

The green one shrugged and added, “It’s a lot more complicated than that, but that’s the version that’s most easily understood. Vaehirn Moks, by the way.”

Thie nodded faintly, muttering, “One down, a billion to go…”

Irajii smirked. “Next.”

He grumbled a bit, then mulled it over. What to ask first… More importantly, how to guarantee they were telling the truth? They’d already admitted this organization, this _taumakai_ , wasn't exactly legal. “Why are you telling me anything?”

Irajii shrugged. “We saved your life. We owe you some answers.”

“Besides,” Raemnor chimed in, “if you did happen to tell anyone, who’s going to believe you? Within salarian space, we have measures to make sure there’s no security leaks, and outside, nobody knows we exist. You’d come off as paranoid and get locked up to talk to the nice doctor for the rest of your life.”

Thie opened his mouth to retort, then closed it again. He had a point. “Okay,” he said slowly, “then what about this uncle you all talk about sometimes? The way you talk, he’s somebody important.”

The salarians were quiet for a minute. Then Moks whistled. “Right to the meat of things. Okay, Haasn.” He leaned forward and steepled his fingers. “Our uncle, Vaehirn Maekso, is a well-respected, high-ranked member of the STG. He’s also leader of our entire organization. The _makaiara_ , he’s called. He tells us where to go, what to do, and how to do it. Nothing happens in the galaxy without our notice, and there’ll be a report on it on his desk within hours.” He nodded to Irajii. “Jii is his heir, the _kaiatu_. As her closest siblings, when she takes over, we’ll be the _makaianau_ , the _makaiara_ ’s inner circle of advisors and department heads. So we all report directly to him."

Thie blinked slowly. “And… why are you telling me this?”

“Simple.” Adreon twitched both eye membranes, though it wasn’t exactly a blink. “A biotic quarian has the potential to be at the very least a valuable ally. Matu-tei has been working on tracking down more information about you. We know your societal status among your people, and most of your past thus far. We’ve taken the liberty of alerting your family and your friend Kel’Raanis as to your status. Given current intel, you have two options once you’re released from Waedrok’s care: you could continue your Pilgrimage and eventually return to the Fleet, where you will be forced to suppress your abilities in order to have a hope for a chance at a normal, uneventful life; or you could stay with us, and learn how to control your biotics and put them to good use, at your discretion. Either way, we will provide everything you need to survive- medical care, food, shelter, all of that. We will respect your choice regardless of what it is.”

Thie’s head spun. Whoever had first told him salarians talked fast hadn’t known the half of it. Did they even need to breathe? He shook his head slightly and sat back, mulling over what Adreon had said. At least his family and Kel knew he was alive. Poor Kel had probably been having a heart attack. And he had to admit he wasn’t exactly looking forward to going back to the Fleet. Being an outcast over something he couldn’t control wasn’t his definition of “fun.” And they did make a tempting offer…

He thought for a couple minutes longer, then leaned forward a little, steepling his fingers. “I think I could stick around Mannovai for a while.”


	2. Make Him a Member

Thie grunted as he hit the wall of the training room, momentarily glad for the mats lining the walls and floor. Across the room, the blue blaze coiling around Raemnor flickered, then died as he walked over. “You’re grounding yourself too much,” he barked. “If you remain static, you’ll hinder your biotic abilities. Let the energy flow through you, and move with it.”

Thie grumbled and rubbed his head. “Easy for you to say.”

Raemnor sniffed. “The more stubborn about it you are, the harder it’s going to be to adapt to the new implant we installed. You need to practice using your biotics so the implant can be better integrated with your system with fewer setbacks.”

“I didn’t _ask_ for the implant.”

“You didn’t ask us to kill a bunch of batarians and get your ass off Death’s doorstep, either.” Raemnor shrugged. “Look, I don’t know anything about it beyond the specs of the implant itself. You want an actual reason for having it, talk to Waedrok.”

Thie huffed and got to his feet. “Whatever. Don’t you have more important things to do? You know, besides stand around lecturing me?”

“As a matter of fact, no. I have work to do when the _makaiara_ says I do, and right now, he says to focus on you.”

“And why does he want to focus on me?”

“How should I know? I’m not in his head. And if I was, I’d probably hate it.”

Raemnor’s omni-tool beeped just then, and he glanced away from Thie to check the message. He frowned as he read, then snorted and turned it off, looking back to Thie. “Speaking of, you’ll never guess who wants to see you.”

Thie scowled. “Why?”

“We literally just had this conversation. I don’t know, I never _will_ know, and why do you keep forgetting that?” He shook his head and turned around to walk towards the door. “Come on. You don’t keep the _makaiara_ waiting.”

“Why not?”

“Same reason you don’t insult a krogan’s mother, idiot. Now come on, let’s go.”

Thie grumbled under his breath but followed Raemnor out of the room, rubbing the back of his head. Stupid salarians.

Maybe a week into his stay, Thie had learned the base was built literally right next to a lake- several floors actually had no wall along that side of the building, and the ground floor had piers starting right at the end of the floor proper and heading out into the lake. Maekso’s office was tucked way down in the basement of the building, several stories below the forest floor, and had one wall made entirely of glass and looking out into the depths of the water, bathing the rest of the room in an eerie greenish glow. The room itself was furnished rather simply, with most of the activity being the array of tech neatly organized on shelves and the desk.

To Thie’s surprise, there was more than just one salarian in the room. Irajii was sitting with her back against the window, head on her knees. Moks was checking something on his omni-tool and leaning against the wall, and Selban was next to him, picking something off her shirt. Thie dimly recognized Waedrok, the doctor who had been overseeing him since the rescue, talking in a low voice to a reddish-brown salarian Thie didn’t recognize and assumed must be the elusive Maekso.

Beside him, Raemnor coughed. “Will Adreon be joining us, _matu-tei_?”

The brown glanced up then and shook his head. “He left to return to Omega a couple hours ago. If you need him, you’ll have to call.” Then he twitched and looked to Thie. “Thie’Haasn nar Olyna. A pleasure to finally meet you.” He paused, then smirked. “Well, meet while you’re conscious, anyway.”

Thie nodded warily. “Vaehirn Maekso, I assume?”

“Correct. I apologize for not meeting you sooner, but I had other matters to attend to.” He fluttered one eyelid. “Irajii and the others have been reporting to me about your progress since your release from the medical wing, and I think it’s high time we found a use for you, if you’ve no plans to return to the Flotilla?”

Thie blinked, then folded his arms across his chest. “Depends on what you had in mind.”

Maekso nodded sharply. “We’ll need a further assessment of your capabilities before we can determine potential avenues. Waedrok informs me you’re physically recovered enough for a decent assessment, so you’ll be working with Irajii on her next assignment.”

Irajii’s head popped up off her knees. “When did I get a new assignment?”

“In five seconds, _mohipeke_.” Maekso smirked and took a seat in the chair behind his desk, tapping a few keys at his terminal. “A couple days ago, our team on Noveria sent in a notice about a _kareo_ who appears to be turning his back on us. You’re going to go in, assess the situation, and take care of it as you see fit.”

He turned in his seat to look at Irajii. “I’m giving you full authority over what happens to this man, _tam-tei_. I hope you’re ready for this.”

Irajii was silent, then got to her feet, brushing off her shirt before nodding. “I won’t let you down, _matu-tei._ ”

“Make it so.” Maekso turned back to look at Thie. “You’ll be accompanying Irajii and Raemnor. Irajii will be going as a mere politician investigating a potential asset, and Raemnor her bodyguard. As far as anyone will know, you’re simply a quarian on his Pilgrimage who’s following around a respected politician to learn more about salarian culture in the hopes of finding information that could help ease politics on the Fleet. On the way to Noveria, you’ll receive training in close-quarters combat, both bladework and hand-to-hand, as well as the use of small arms. I think a pistol will do. Moks, see what we have that’s compatible with what we know of his physiology.” He glanced at Moks, who nodded quickly and looked down at his omni-tool, then back to Thie. “Any questions?”

Thie took a moment to process everything Maekso had said, then shrugged. “Just one. When do we leave?”

* * *

 

Thie leaned against the practice room wall, watching Irajii meticulously wrap her hands and forearms in black material. “So, why, again, are you doing that?”

Irajii glanced up for the briefest of seconds, then back down at her hands. “Several reasons. First, I keep dagger sheaths strapped to my forearms, where they’re most easily hidden. Without wrappings, the sheaths would irritate my skin, potentially even breaking it, and be more trouble than they’re worth. Second, I tend to practice alone, which develops blisters in key points on my hands. The wrappings keep me from breaking the blisters open when I least need them to. Third, they keep me from leaving any prints that could identify me. Fourth, the less skin I show, the less detectable I am. And fifth,” she went quiet for a moment as she secured the wrapping on her left arm, then pulled her sleeve down over it and held it out for him to see. “It looks good.”

Thie raised an eyebrow. “You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?”

Irajii paused, then leaned towards him, eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly. “I have been being trained to take over my uncle’s position since I was two years old. I’m _twelve_. A decade is the blink of an eye to your kind, but to my people, that’s a quarter of my lifespan dedicated to learning how to kill, how to manipulate, and how to lead. I have never known a life where my every footstep was not trailed by a host of agents dedicated to my protection, where my siblings were just my siblings, where I sat in on breeding contract negotiations and produced daughters for my clan, where I learned the game the galaxy expects females of my people to play. I live, breathe, and will die for the _taumakai_. So _yes_ , Thie’Haasn, I have thought this through _very_ thoroughly.”

Thie stared. Touchy. Apparently he’d hit a nerve. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”

Irajii grumbled, then moved on to wrapping a leg. “An honest mistake, I suppose. Give me a moment, and we’ll begin.”

Thie watched and listened quietly as Irajii walked him through various types of execution methods, blades and their uses, and so on and so forth. He tried to pay attention, honestly he did. But it was a lot of information in a short amount of time, and he’d barely gotten the difference between a knife and a dagger straight in his head before she was putting one of them in his hand and pointing him at a training dummy.

Irajii proved to be even more demanding an instructor than Raemnor, barking instructions and corrections left and right. He did his best to keep up, but that was easier said than done- Irajii had no time for mistakes, and he was still recovering somewhat from the slaver ship. By the time she was satisfied, he was about ready to melt into a puddle of quarian-colored goo and call it quits on the solid state of matter. He wasn’t entirely sure he didn’t, either.

Irajii paced as he caught his breath. “You’ll need to practice more, but we don’t have time. We still need to work on stealth, and Raemnor will need to show you how to use a gun. Gah, there’s too much to do and too little time.”

Thie just stared as she paced. “How do you keep _going?”_ he managed to say between gasping breaths. “I’m _dying_ over here.”

Irajii waved a hand. “Stamina and endurance training. Not much good if I can kill people in fifty different ways but stop pursuing them because I ran out of energy. You’ll get that, too, but later. Catch your breath, then we’ll work on your stealth.”

“Just catch my breath? Not an actual break?”

“There’s only a few days’ travel between Mannovai and Noveria. Not much time for rest.”

Thie stared incredulously. “Not much time? A few days is _plenty_ of time!”

Irajii glowered at him, then twitched an eye membrane. “Fine. Thirty-minute break. Then we work on stealth.”

“You’re so generous.”

“I have a lot to teach you and nowhere near enough time to do it properly,” she snapped. “Keep complaining, and break ends now.”

Thie huffed, then sighed and slouched. Thirty minutes it was. “Thanks.”

She nodded sharply and took a seat, pulling up her sleeves to start undoing her wrappings. Thie watched for a moment, then asked, “Why are you the one teaching me all this, anyway?”

She glanced up at him for a second. “What?”

He shrugged. “All that stuff you said earlier, and before that. If you’re as important as you say, why are you the one teaching me all this?”

She blinked and was quiet for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Maekso would, but I doubt he’d ever say. The _makaiara_ only ever shares information that they think is important for the recipient to know.”

Thie was more surprised that that bit of information surprised him. He thought he’d gotten used to the various secrets these particular salarians shrouded themselves in. “What kind of information would he share?”

Irajii thought for a moment. “Well,” she began, “we work closely with the councilor. They’re a vital asset to our organization due to their rank and access to information we might not be able to get otherwise, so they’re allowed to skip the chain of command and interact directly with the _makaiara_. Any information the councilor wants, the _makaiara_ tells them, or gets for them if we don’t have it. Gains their trust, maintains an alliance of sorts so if we need council influence for anything, we can get it without too much trouble. So the _makaiara_ would share the answer to basically any question the councilor could ever ask.”

He blinked. “So _the salarian councilor_ is in the taumakai?”

“Are you kidding? Of course not. It would jeopardize everything. Councilor candidates are heavily investigated before they get the job. The dalatrasses are willing to forgive a tie here and there, but there’s a fine line between cooperating with us and joining us. Cooperation is strategy. Joining is suicide.” The corner of her mouth twitched. “I guess you could say we make them an offer they can’t refuse.”

Thie blinked at her again, and she sighed. “Right, you wouldn’t get that reference. I’ll show you sometime.”

“Right.” He shook his head slightly, then fell silent, watching Irajii unwind the wrappings from around her forearm, then rewind them so they fit more snugly. There was something else she’d said that was sitting just out of grasp, something he couldn’t quite remember but he _knew_ was bugging him.

It wasn’t until Irajii had taken a seat and pulled up the leg of her pants to start working on the wrappings on her feet that it clicked.

 _I have never known a life where I sat in on breeding contract negotiations and produced daughters for my clan_.

He blinked. Then blinked again. Then asked, “Irajii?”

“What now?” she grumbled, sparing a half-second to look up at him with narrowed eyes.

He fidgeted. “What you said before, about breeding contract negotiations.”

She stiffened for just a fraction of a second, so infinitesimally he thought he’d imagined it. “What about it?” Her voice was even, completely neutral, almost disinterested.

 _She’s practiced this_ , a little voice in the back of his head. _Be careful, stupid_. “Well,” he began, picking his words carefully. “I was wondering what you meant when you said you’d never done it? Isn’t that a big thing for salarian females?”

He quickly decided he hadn’t been careful enough, because Irajii abruptly shook her head with a snort. “Never you mind that,” she barked. “It’s no business of yours. Break’s over, get up, now we work on your stealth.”

She sprang to her feet and stalked away, and Thie sighed. Add that to the list of secrets.

* * *

 

Noveria was, in Thie’s opinion, far too cold for any sane being to even consider going there. He was pretty sure he could feel his blood freezing solid in his veins. Irajii and Raemnor didn’t seem to be faring much better, huddled in on themselves and shaking like loose bolts despite the several layers of clothing he’d helped them put on.

The plan was simple, they’d assured him. Since bringing a guest along to a supposed political meeting would look suspicious, Irajii and Raemnor would get him into the compound with them, then leave him behind to look around while they went in to speak with the alleged traitor. Then, once they were into the traitor’s office and he was alone, Raemnor would set up a link between the traitor’s terminal and Thie’s omni-tool, using his own omni-tool as a relay, and Thie would sort through whatever files he could get to and look for any evidence they could use.

“It’s _perfect_ ,” Irajii had told him when he’d protested. “On Noveria, everyone’s paranoid about losing the administration’s good will. They’ll figure that if they’re seen talking to a quarian, they’ll come under suspicion. Nobody will bother you. If anyone does, you can tell them you’re trying to get a ride out, but your signal is shoddy at best, thus it’s taking you a while to get anything done. You’ll want to switch locations a lot, so you’ll seem convincing. It’ll work, trust me.”

As loath as he was to admit it, the plan did indeed seem to be working. Like Irajii had predicted, nobody wanted to be seen near the quarian, so he was left in peace in the corner he curled up in. Raemnor’s program worked beautifully; if it were any species other than salarians, he would have been impressed. Since it _was_ salarians, though, he could only grumble a dimly annoyed (yet still envious), “Of course.” Irajii and company had apparently thought this through to the finest details.

So, naturally, something had to go wrong.

He was sorting through the target’s comm history when the signal suddenly cut out, replaced soon after with a message from Raemnor.

_Something’s come up. Attaching a map of the compound. Just follow the path I’ve marked, and you’ll be fine. Already disabling security for you. Come quickly._

Thie frowned, then opened up the attached file. Sure enough, it was a map of the compound, with a path marked in green… that lead right through the vents.

He stared at the path blankly, letting it sink in exactly what they wanted him to do, then groaned. “Oh, _ruj’dasa_ ,” he grumbled, closing his omni-tool down and getting up to find the starting point.

He supposed he should be thankful Raemnor had found him a vent entrance in a remote area of the compound. The last thing he needed right now was for somebody to question why a quarian was poking around the vents on a paranoid planet like Noveria. The vents themselves were colder than he’d thought possible, and he tried his best to avoid touching the walls any more than he absolutely had to. More than once, he found himself grateful for the heating tech the salarians had given him to carry in his suit’s pockets. Noveria was just too damn _cold_.

 It was slow going, and he had to stop periodically to check his route, but eventually he managed to find his way to the office where Raemnor had drawn a neat little circle on the map. Good thing, too- if the light from around the next corner was any indication, the only other way out was going outside, which was definitely _not_ an option.

He looked down through the grate to check for anything below him, then inspected the grate for weaknesses. Huh. Still using screws. What was this, the twenty-first century? With a bit of grumbling, he maneuvered himself so he could kick hard at the center of the grate. It took him a few tries, but screws weren’t exactly made for withstanding a kick from a quarian in the first place, and it fell with a clang and a clatter into the room below.

He dropped down after the grate, cursing as he landed rather clumsily, then awkwardly got to his feet and dusted himself off. If he never had to do that again, it would be too soon.

Across the room, Irajii stood with her arms folded neatly behind her back, watching him with a rather bored air. “Oh good, you’re here,” she drawled, eyelids fluttering. “We can move on, then.”

Thie glanced around. “Move on with what?”

Irajii unfolded her arms and stalked over to the big desk on the other end of the room. “Our target was paranoid. Understandable, given who he was trying to double-cross. Pulled a gun on us. Nice little Tempest. Figures ERCS would provide the people on Noveria with weapons. Accused us of being taumakai and said we couldn’t do anything to him.” Her lips twitched. “He was half-right. When Raemnor went to seize the gun, he shot him. Seven bullets, right into his left horn.”

Thie’s eyes widened. “Keelah, is he alright?”

She shrugged. “He’ll be fine. Horns are pretty much solid all the way through, but at that range, it left a nasty mark. He’ll probably have to get it amputated. He’s gone back to the ship already for medical treatment.” She paused on the other side of the desk and looked down. “All we need to do now is take care of _him_.”

Thie blinked, then moved so he could get a better view. Laying spread-eagled on the floor was a blue-gray salarian, a look of shock frozen on his face. There wasn’t a mark on him, and the body looked intact, like he’d just slid out of his chair.

Thie shuddered. _Quick and clean_.

Irajii blinked slowly, watching. “We can spin a story to explain what happened. The guards outside are on our payroll and will keep quiet. We just need to get rid of the body.”

Thie stared. “ _Just_ get rid of the body?”

Irajii twitched an eyelid. “Autopsies will reveal he died of a biotic blast direct to his heart and security footage will show Raemnor leaving here bloody. It won’t take much thought to piece things together. We dispose of the body, doctor the security footage, and get out like nothing happened. Routine, really.”

“This is _routine_ for you?”

She gave a long, low sigh. “Honestly, what part of ‘assassin’ don’t you get? I’ve been doing this practically since I left the water. You get used to it pretty fast.”

“So?” he sputtered. “How can you be so _casual_ about it? You’re just ditching the body!”

“It’s not like he’s going to need it anymore. If you’re going to throw a hissy fit, stand over there and do it. I need space.”

He opened his mouth to… something, he wasn’t sure if he was planning on protesting or asking what she meant, then quickly jumped back when Irajii’s shrouded form suddenly rippled with white-blue energy. “Keelah-!”

Irajii took no notice of him, closing her eyes and stepping back slowly. She lifted one arm as the biotics swarming around her skin pulsed and radiated further outward, then pushed it towards one of the windows behind the desk. It swung open surprisingly easily, letting bitter cold flood in, and Thie flinched away. And he’d thought it was cold with the windows _shut_.

Irajii seemed to slow with the sudden cold, but continued. The other arm went up, and the body went with it, floating up to the ceiling almost comically limp. Another arm gesture, and the body went soaring out the open window, disappearing into the white expanse outside. Something clenched in Thie’s gut, watching Irajii’s definition of “dispose of.” Something felt _wrong_ about it, like they were breaking some ancient, unspoken law.

Even if they were, Irajii didn’t seem to care. She pulled the window shut, then calmly paced over to the terminal on the desk like nothing had happened. “Go on out to the ship,” she said, waving a hand at him. “I’ll take care of this. Best if we’re not seen together.”

Thie blinked. “That’s it?”

“Hm?” She didn’t look up, tapping away at the terminal.

He folded his arms. “You called me in here and had me freeze my bones solid in the vents just to watch you do everything yourself?”

She paused, then shrugged and continued whatever it was she was doing. “Pretty much. We were testing how fast you’d get through the vents. You passed, by the way. Quick, but quiet. Nicely done. Now get lost.”

He stared, waiting for her to say something else, but she appeared to have tuned him out, focused entirely on the terminal. So instead he just scowled and turned away, headed for the door. “ _Salarians_ ,” he grumbled under his breath.

* * *

 

Maekso scanned through Irajii’s report of the mission as she stood before his desk, back ramrod-straight and shoulders squared with military precision. If he didn’t know better, he’d say the STG had trained her well. But he did, and he just smirked internally. She was such a good heir.

He tapped the datapad against the desk. “So all is well?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Body gone? Surveillance wiped? Data retrieved?”

“Yes to all, sir. Noveria’s landscape changes every few hours with the ice storms; they’ll never find his body. We left no trace in their security records. I gave Vaexe an OSD containing all the data from his drives.”

“Good.” He put the datapad down and stood, turning to observe the murky lake on the other side of the glass wall. A massive shape swam past, and he narrowed his eyes at it before continuing. “Waedrok tells me Raemnor should make a full recovery. They managed to get his horn removed before infection got to the bullet wounds. He’s not happy about it, but he at least acknowledges it’s better than letting bacteria and such eat his skull.”

He heard her give a very tiny sigh of relief, and he allowed a small smile. “Now, the issue is this quarian. What do you think?”

A few soft footfalls, staying in place. “Well,” Irajii began. A slight scrape of cloth against skin. “I checked the activity Raemnor’s relay recorded. He was very efficient when he was sorting through the files. And he got through the vents quickly and quietly.”

“Good. And his combat proficiency?”

“Not as good, sir. He’s slow, and stubborn. Raemnor suggested we adapt some of our biotics methods to better fit a quarian, rather than starting from scratch with human methods. He’s… what’s the word… _scrappy,_ I suppose, in close-combat, but his methods are unrefined and don’t bother with maintaining defense while on offense, and vice-versa. And his aim is bad. He’ll need stamina and endurance training too.” She paused, then grudgingly added, “But he is improving.”

Maekso nodded and watched the big shape out in the water glide past. “Improvement is progress. He’ll continue training. I’ll assign him instructors other than you and your siblings, I have better uses for you than minding a quarian. He’ll be one of ours before long enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder that this is not actual Eijalsen canon, but rather an alternate version of events that would have happened had it not been for Axilus' squad; however, the taumakai will be popping back up again later on in the canon timeline, though at the time of posting this, it's a ways off!


End file.
